strawberry champagne
by 920306
Summary: AU. He promised he'd take her out, but he never mentioned taking her out to a pub. — Reds.


19 November 2012

strawberry champagne  
: _theSincerities _

* * *

He promised he'd take her out, but he never mentioned taking her out to a pub. Evidentially, this meant Blossom stepped past skimpily dressed women and cologne-smelling men, breath suddenly hitched, eyes suddenly alert and overlooking smoky silhouettes. For a moment, she glanced down at her dress uncomfortably before she shot a disapproving, panicked look at the man guiding her.

She'd have pulled him aside for a quick, merciless rundown on what he'd dragged her into if it hadn't been for the overpopulated bulge they'd stepped into the moment he led her away from his car.

_Relax, they have a back entrance_, he'd mentioned upon spotting her questioning expression.

They were in an obscured parking lot. Why?

If things were bad enough then, it was even worse when she felt startlingly covetous eyes following her. She should've gone with the pants—_why didn't she go with the dress pants? _

As they approached two counter seats, she heard him throw out an order as he ushered her to sit beside him. She did, albeit reluctant, eyes hard on the back of his dark-rust hair (gelled fully to the beginning of his shirt collar where its length ended); they narrowed the moment he turned to face her, a hand now running into said hair, guiding it back and feeling at its texture.

"Take me home," she immediately said. "_I want you to take me home_." When a champagne glass slid beside her adorning a strawberry floating in its stardust wine, she barely suppressed the repulsion she felt boiling within her.

"Bloss," he purred, leaning in toward her, weight on the counter. He stopped, their faces barely a foot in distance. "_Relax_."

She felt herself fumble with the coat she hugged close in her arms, readying it.

"Let loose a little, enjoy yourself." He smirked. "Act your age for once."

"You never mentioned taking me out to drink," she said through grit teeth, head lowering angrily. Her ears scaled themselves toward the beaconing dance floor tucked around the corner of the bar counter, then at the reverberation of roof-reaching voices.

"You'd have never agreed if had."

"_Of course I wouldn't have_!" She stood, arms now slinking into their coat. "Take me home, Brick. _I mean it_."

She flew between his legs before she could stumble back toward the "entrance," a hand suddenly at her waist, _arresting _her. He bore his eyes into hers as he brought his voice down between a harmless growl and a whisper.

"Isn't this exciting for you?" he said. "Doesn't your heart fleet at the thought of doing something no one would even consider seeing Blossom—cultured, above-the-influence _Blossom—_do? It's not like it's illegal, if it makes you feel any better."

Blossom frowned.

"Live a little. I'll be here to watch over you; I won't let anything happen to you."

She shook her head. "What will the Professor think? I'll never hear the end of it from Bubbles and especially not from Buttercup!"

It was angering enough for her when he spoke in a syrupy voice, but for him to grin at her with half-lidded eyes only missing a hazy glaze—_oh_, well, obviously he wanted to piss her off.

"Let loose a little; take a drink of your champagne. You like strawberries, don't you? You told me they were your favorite."

"Brick, if _you don't take me home, so help me, I will call the Professor and_—._"_

"Look, _Bloss_." She found him pressing his forehead against hers, the hand at her wrist pulling her to him, _closer_. "I wouldn't have brought you here if the reputation were complete shit; you know me better than that. Ignore the smell of pot—that's from outside; they don't let you smoke indoors."

His eyes were closed, she noticed, so she couldn't help but listen.

"There's nothing to worry about—the people here know me. They won't _dare_ try anything so long as I'm here with you." They opened. "Trust me. I'll show you a good time—a _safe_ time."

Suddenly, the champagne winking at her with its heart grew welcoming.

"_Trust me_."

The heart pulsed in stardust.

". . . okay . . ."

_That evening, Blossom was a star._

* * *

**Disclaimer**: Credit for _The Powerpuff Girls _belongs to Craig McCracken.


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